The Weight of Him
by chaton-espion
Summary: WIP Sydney finds herself unwillingly allied with Sark in order to take down the Covenant, and discover the twisted truth about her lost years.
1. Chapter One

Title: The Weight of Him  
  
Author: chaton_espion  
  
Rating: Eventually R  
  
Ship: Syd/Sark Timeline: S3, picks up after "A Missing Link". Feedback: Please. Reviews are the Irish cream in my coffee. Distribution: Anywhere. All you gotta do is ask first. I just like to keep track, so I probably won't say no. Disclaimers: I do not own any "Alias" characters, although my life would be a lot more fun if I owned my very own Sark. No, that privilege would belong to JJ Abrams and Bad Robot. Sue me if you must, but I should warn you that I'm a college student, and therefore obscenely in debt. I have nothing for you to take.  
  
Author's note: This is my first attempt at fic, so feel free to give any constructive criticism. Completely un-betaed, so if you find any glaring, disgusting mistakes, let me know about them.  
  
1  
  
"You never should have betrayed me."  
  
Her last words to Vaughn floated in and out of her thoughts as the scalding hot water beat down on her skin. Sydney rubbed her face vigorously and tried to stem the last of her tears as she shut off the water and stepped from the shower. She knew that the CIA would find Vaughn, thanks to the tracking device she had planted on him, but that did nothing to quell the shaking of her hands, or dissolve the unbearable lump in her throat. You stuck a knife in his gut, a voice inside her whispered.  
  
She kept telling herself that she'd had no choice, that it was the only way to save them both, and keep her cover from being blown, but it didn't make the guilt any easier to bear. "You never should have betrayed me." Those words had been meant for Simon, to confirm that she was indeed this "Julia", and that the betrayal by someone whom she had trusted would not go unpunished. Sydney couldn't ignore the double meaning of the words though, and she was sure that Vaughn couldn't either. It was the grain of truth behind them that kept her mind spinning furiously.  
  
She was certain that Vaughn's pained face would haunt her in dreams to come.  
  
Sydney left the small, steamy bathroom and entered the adjoining bedroom. She rifled through the travel bag next to the bed for some fresh clothes, and finally pulled on a pair of charcoal cargo pants and a black sleeveless top. She sat on the edge of the bed, and she had just started pulling a brush through her long dark hair when Simon opened the door to the bedroom. He paused, crossing his arms and leaning against the frame of the door, and watched her with a gleam in his eyes. His lips curled into a tempting smile. Sydney slipped into "Julia" mode.  
  
"You see something you like?" she asked, laying the brush on the night table and leaning back on her hands.  
  
"I certainly do." Simon said as he crossed the room. He grabbed her arms and pulled her up off the bed, crushing her against his body. "You were fucking brilliant tonight, Julia." His lips met hers in a bruising kiss. Sydney, unsure of how to react, ran her hands up his back and into his hair, and parted her lips, allowing Simon to tangle his tongue with hers. Simon's hands were everywhere, caught in her damp hair one moment, slipping up her shirt and running over her sides the next. Sydney was more than a little disgusted with herself as her breathing became ragged and the intensity of the kiss mounted. When she felt his hands dip lower and his fingers slip between the waist of her pants and her skin, she broke away. She picked up her brush and began brushing her hair again, trying to think of a way to get rid of Simon. She was desperate to find what had happened to her during those missing two year, but she wasn't ready to go that far for information.  
  
Simon looked baffled. "Something wrong, babe?" he panted.  
  
Sydney's eyes narrowed as she said lowly "You don't think I forgive that easily, do you?"  
  
"What? You mean what happened earlier?" Simon laughed. "Look, babe, it was a mistake. I'm sorry. You've certainly proved that you're trustworthy. Besides," he said with a sly grin, "it's not like that was the first time I've pulled a knife on you." When Sydney only twitched a half-smile in response, remaining silent, he sighed. "It's just as well, I suppose. We have a bit of unfinished business to attend to downstairs."  
  
"What business is that?"  
  
"Just a few loose ends to take care of before we officially call the mission a success." He replied, and Sydney followed him out the door.  
  
They made their way downstairs and entered the drawing room where Javier and Russet were sitting in chairs on either side of the table in the middle of the room. At the head of the table, leaning back in his chair and locking his icy blue eyes on hers, was someone who made Sydney's breath catch in her throat and her blood freeze in her veins. The very last person on earth she wanted to see: Sark. 


	2. Chapter Two

2  
Shit. Sydney thought. Shit. Shit. Shit.  
  
She had barely managed to avoid him when he stopped by earlier before the heist, but now, there was nowhere for her to hide.  
  
Simon turned back to her when he noticed she hadn't entered the room any further. "Julia," he said, "this is Mr. Sark, the man who hired us for the job. He's here to pay us for services rendered." Simon smiled.  
  
Sark, still staring at Sydney, spoke smoothly. "Indeed. The remainder of your fee is being held in four separate accounts for each of you." His eyes finally glanced down, indicating a series of file folders sitting in front of him. "The account numbers and access codes are all detailed in these." Javier reached for them, but stopped as Sark continued. "I have another job for you." He finally turned his attention to Simon. "My employers were greatly pleased with your success, and wish you to complete another task for them. Your pay will be tripled upon completion of this mission."  
  
"Tripled?" Simon said, raising an eyebrow. He looked at Javier and Russet, who both nodded their heads in approval. He looked back at Sydney. "What do you say, Julia? You didn't have any plans to skip out on me again, did you?"  
  
Sydney managed a smile in response. The whole time Sark had been talking, she dared not move, dared not do anything except wish she had the gun she had left upstairs in her room. Not that she thought she could take out all four men and escape, but anything would be better than standing here completely unarmed and feeling naked under the hard gaze of Sark. Her eyes followed him as he rose from his seat and handed each man a file, and as he moved towards her. She readied herself for a fight.  
  
His eyes never left hers as he handed her the file. "Julia," he said as a small smirk twitched on the corner of his lips, "Mr. Walker tells me that you are a valuable addition to the team. I'm looking forward to working with you." Sydney glared in response, and took the file. With that, he turned back to Simon. "I shall be in contact shortly with details on the operation." Simon nodded. Sark glanced back at Sydney one last time and left.  
  
Sydney let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Simon was staring at her quizzically. "I'm going to bed." She said and walked out of the room.  
  
She had to force herself not to break into a run as she made her way upstairs. What the hell is that son of a bitch up to? She asked herself as she shut the door to her bedroom behind her. Why didn't he blow my cover? She looked down at the file she still had gripped in her hand and opened it. The name of the bank, account number, access code, and the name under which the account was being held were all there. Sydney's eyes widened at the last item. Kate Jones. Her old alias from her SD-6 days. That was no coincidence. Sydney didn't believe in those anymore. Sark knew that she was the new member of the team before their meeting tonight. He knew I would be here. She laid the file on the bed, and grabbed her gun from under her pillow. She'd be damned if she was going to be caught unarmed like that again. She tucked it into the back of her pants.  
  
She was startled out of her thoughts by the ring of her cell phone. "Hello?"  
  
"Sydney."  
  
"Dad." Her breath quickened as she walked quickly to the bathroom, closed the door, and turned on her hair dryer to keep anyone from listening. She had phoned Dixon earlier before her shower to tell him what had happened, and that the tracking device she had planted on Vaughn needed to be activated immediately. She assumed her father was calling with news of Vaughn. She waited for Jack to continue.  
  
"Vaughn has been found. Weiss tracked him to the location where you left him, and he's being flown back to LA."  
  
Sydney shuddered out a breath. "How is he?"  
  
A moment of silence passed before he answered. "We're not sure of that as of yet. He'd lost a significant amount of blood, and as of the last update, he was still unconscious. We'll be able to get a better idea of his situation once he's back home and in the hospital." Sydney bit her lip to keep the loud sob from escaping her throat. Jack must have sensed this, for he continued, "Sydney, you did the right thing, the only thing that you could do to save both yourself and Vaughn. You had no choice."  
  
Sydney wiped at the tear rolling down her cheek. "I know. Thanks, Dad." Sydney took a moment to compartmentalize and steady her breath. "We have a problem. There was a meeting after the mission tonight, to receive payment for accomplishing the theft. Sark was there."  
  
"Where are you now?"  
  
"I'm still at Simon's safehouse." She rushed on before her father could interrupt her again. "I don't know what Sark is up to, but he knew it was me. I mean, he looked right at me, he spoke to me. He didn't blow my cover, though."  
  
"Sydney, you have to get out of there. Immediately."  
  
"Dad, I can't. Not only does the Covenant now have the pathogen, but also Simon's team has another job for the Covenant. I have to find out what that is. I have to stop their plans, whatever they may be." She swallowed hard. "I have to find out what Simon knows about "Julia". He's my only lead on those two years that I was gone."  
  
"It's too dangerous."  
  
"When isn't my life too dangerous?" Sydney laughed bitterly. "I can deal with Sark when I have to. I think I can trust that he won't reveal me to Simon, even if his purposes are to further his own means."  
  
"Sydney."  
  
Her eyes fixed to the shadow that moved over the crack of light seeping under the door from the bedroom. Sydney shut off the hair dryer, crept to the bathroom door, and pressed her ear to it. A slight rustle of movement confirmed that someone was in the room. "Dad, I have to go." She whispered as quietly as she could and turned off the phone. She pulled out her gun and steeled herself for combat. Clicking the safety off, Sydney reached for the doorknob, and wrenched the door open, ready to let loose a rain of bullets on whoever was waiting for her. 


	3. Chapter Three

3  
She wasn't surprised to see who the intruder was. "What the hell do you want?" She spit, venomously, keeping her gun trained on him.  
  
"Now, now, Sydney." Sark was standing alone in front of the window, his back to her. "I thought after keeping my silence about your true identity down there, you would be a bit more receptive to an after hours meeting." With that ever-present smirk of his, he faced her and his eyes ticked to the gun aimed at his head. "Apparently, I thought wrong."  
  
"I asked you a question."  
  
Sark chuckled. He raised his hand, absent-mindedly rubbing the back of his shorn hair, although Sydney highly doubted that he ever did anything absent-mindedly. He crossed to a nearby leather armchair and sat. "I have a proposition for you. I believe that we are both in positions to be of some assistance to each other."  
  
"And why, exactly, would I ever."  
  
"Because," Sark interrupted, "as it stands, it does seem that I have a bit of leverage against you. You could refuse my proposal right now, and I could just as quickly inform Mr. Walker of who you really are." He paused for a moment, and his eyes flashed. "Believe me, Sydney, he won't hesitate to kill you."  
  
Sydney's mind flashed back to earlier that evening, the memory of Simon on top of her, the blade of his knife biting into her throat. "If you lie to me again, I will kill you!" he had yelled. Sydney didn't doubt that he would have, no matter how great their sex life had apparently been. She moved forward and sat on the end of the bed; her gun still aimed at Sark. She waited for him to continue.  
  
Sark offered a bemused smile before going on. "As I'm sure the CIA knows, I recently inherited a large sum of money, due to the untimely death of my father. $800 million in gold bullion to be exact. However, the Covenant promptly relieved me of my inheritance as penance for murdering Antony San'ko, as well as in exchange for my extraction from CIA custody." He leaned forward in the chair, resting his arms on his knees. "I'd like it back."  
  
"How am I going to help you with that?" Sydney asked.  
  
"By helping me to destroy the Covenant." He replied simply. "Surely this is the CIA's ultimate goal, in any case. I doubt the destruction of an enemy organization will cause you any. moral dilemmas."  
  
Sydney glared. "You said you were in a position to help me."  
  
"Yes, well, in exchange, besides keeping your true identity secret," Sark paused meaningfully, "I shall do everything I can to help you uncover information of where you've been for the last two years."  
  
Sydney sat in silence before replying. Striking a deal, a partnership, with Sark would be dangerous at best, but what else could she do? The bastard had her backed into a corner. She didn't doubt that Sark would blow her cover as soon as she refused, and although the idea of working with Sark again panicked her to her core, Sydney was willing to accept almost any help offered to recover her lost years. Sydney searched Sark's eyes for some kind of tell, some sign of deceit, but there was nothing, only icy coolness gazing back at her. She sighed and lowered her gun, laying it on the bed next to her. "I don't really have a choice, do I?"  
  
"Of course you do, Sydney." Sark said sincerely, leaning back in the chair. "You always have a choice."  
  
"Some fucking choice, Sark." Sydney snapped. "Either work with you, a hired assassin responsible for the death of my best friend and who will very likely kill me when I'm no longer useful, or have my throat slit open by Simon."  
  
"As I said, you have a choice." Sydney rolled her eyes. He continued, "And for the record, I have no intentions of killing you, Sydney."  
  
"Right. Because you've never tried it before." She spat back.  
  
"I assure you, if I'd ever really tried to kill you, you would be dead."  
  
"You're pretty confident in your abilities."  
  
"I have reason to be." He replied simply.  
  
Sydney was silent, her cheeks burning with anger and irritation. "Fine." She said finally. "You just remember, Sark. You burn me."  
  
" 'I burn you.' " Sark interrupted, chuckling. "You've said that before. Really, Sydney, you should come up with more original threats."  
  
Sydney was about to tell him to fuck off when a series of beeps from Sark's watch sounded. "I placed a motion sensor in the corridor." Sark explained. " Someone is approaching your room." They both stood.  
  
"Probably Simon, looking to pick up where he left off." She visibly shuddered.  
  
"I can help you with that as well, if you'd like." Sark said with an odd sort of smile.  
  
"How can." Sydney was cut off as he stepped forward and kissed her roughly, one hand tangling in her hair, as the other snaked around her waist and pulled her tightly against his body. She barely had a chance to recognize what Sark was doing when the door to the bedroom swung open. She broke away, her breath heavy, and turned to see Simon in the doorway, looking quite shocked. "Simon, dear, ever hear of knocking?" She said.  
  
"Sorry, babe," he half-laughed, "I didn't realized you'd have company." He looked at Sark, whose eyes never left Sydney. His arm was still holding her against him. "I also didn't realize you two knew each other. so well."  
  
"Julia and I go back quite a few years." Sark replied, his hand running up her back and stroking her bare arm, his eyes still locked on Sydney's face. Sydney felt a tingle fire up her spine, and she tried to ignore it.  
  
"Oh?" Simon raised an eyebrow. "You never mentioned."  
  
"I'm not in the habit of sharing my personal life with employees, Mr. Walker." Sark glared darkly at Simon for a moment, then looked back at Sydney. "I have a meeting that I must attend. I'll be in touch."  
  
Still too dazed to know how to reply, Sydney flashed him a bright smile. Sark seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, and Sydney's smile faltered as he leaned in to kiss her again. His lips captured hers, and it was a much softer kiss than the first. What the hell are you doing? Sydney's mind screamed at him. She was unable to do anything but part her lips and let Sark's tongue slip inside her mouth, lest Simon's suspicions be raised. He tasted of marinara sauce and wine. His tongue entwined with hers, stroking and teasing the inside of her mouth. Just as Sydney felt her knees begin to weaken, Sark pulled away, gave her a wink, and made his way to the door. "Have a good evening, Mr. Walker." He said as he passed Simon.  
  
"Will do, Mr. Sark." Simon said, watching Sydney as she ran her hands through her hair and crossed over to the window, needing to get some air. Simon eyed her, half-amused, half-suspicious. "So, Julia. What's all this, then?"  
  
"What's all what, Simon?" she sighed, with her back still facing him.  
  
Simon laughed as he entered the room, and he stretched out on the bed, head propped up on his hand. "Don't play coy with me, Julia. What's the deal with you and Sark?"  
  
Sydney turned to face him, leaning against the windowsill. "He's someone I knew from a long time ago. We had a very. complicated relationship."  
  
"Why didn't you mention him before?"  
  
Sydney cocked her head and smiled slyly. "Are we in the habit of discussing our relationships, Simon? Former or present?"  
  
"Good point." Simon said as he hauled himself up and crawled toward the side of the bed nearest Sydney. He got up and moved towards her, his head dipping down to kiss her. Sydney moved her face away, causing Simon to stop. He searched her eyes for a moment. "Ah, it's like that then, is it?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah. It's like that." Sydney replied, moving past him. "Sark's a very possessive man, Simon. You don't want to be sniffing around what he considers to be his."  
  
"Are you?"  
  
"His?" Sydney asked.  
  
"Yes."  
  
She smiled. "For the most part." 


	4. Chapter Four

4  
Sydney tried hard to focus as she put her key in the ignition. She had driven straight to the hospital from the airport that morning. Vaughn was still unconscious. Apparently, the knife had punctured his lung, and he had lost a significant amount of oxygen to his brain. The doctors had no idea if he was going to suffer from any long-term brain damage. They would only be able to determine that when he woke up. If he wakes up. Sydney thought.  
  
She had been sitting in the hospital parking lot for fifteen minutes, waiting for her tears to subside enough so that she could drive home safely. She took a deep breath and put the car into reverse, pulling out of the space. Sydney was just exiting the lot when her cell phone rang out. She picked it up off the passenger seat and answered. "Hello?"  
  
"Sydney." A smooth, low voice greeted her. "I need to meet with you. Are you busy at the moment?"  
  
Sydney clenched her jaw as the memory of Sark's tongue playing with hers, and the smug look on his face that followed flashed through her mind. She had lain awake all that night, partly furious with him, and partly furious with herself for enjoying the kiss, even if only on a basic, primal level. "What do you need to meet with me for?" she forced out.  
  
"We can discuss that in person. Are you available to meet or not?"  
  
"Yes. I'm just leaving the hospital. Where do you want to meet?"  
  
"There's a café on 8th Street, Le Frutta Vietate. Half an hour?"  
  
"Fine." Sydney hung up and tossed the phone back onto the seat beside her. The son of a bitch has me at his beck and call. She hadn't really lied to Simon the other night. For the next while, in any case, she did belong to Sark. Every move she made would be under his direction and supervision, and any misstep on her part would blow everything. Fanfuckingtastic, she thought bitterly. She was also worried about how much Sark knew about the murder of his father. She had no idea how he would react when he found out that it was she who killed Lazarey. On top of this, the thought of playing girlfriend to Sark to keep Simon off her back, and out of her bed, unnerved her more than she cared to admit. She couldn't stop thinking of that second kiss. Sark had been so gentle, tender almost. It surprised Sydney, considering the acts of brutality she'd seen him carry out.  
  
She'd always been secretly fascinated with Sark. The man seemingly had no past, or first name, for that matter, and although he could be no older than thirty, he had the refined intelligence and confidence of someone ten years his elder. Sark had also claimed to have worked closely with her mother, which made Sydney wonder what kind of man he must be to have Irina Derevko trust him so completely. And, of course, there was the fact that he was sinfully gorgeous.  
  
He was tall and slim, but lean. All broad shoulders and narrow hips, he had the build of a swimmer, and the suits that he frequently wore complimented him perfectly. Before his two-year stint in prison, his blond hair had been long enough to curl mischievously, as if rebelling against his deadly serious demeanor. Now, it was cut too close for that, but it didn't detract from his appeal. In fact, it only made him look older, and it showed off the perfect bone structure in his face. The most striking things about Sark, though, were his eyes. They were the purest, most utterly blue eyes Sydney had ever seen. She always felt like she was under a microscope whenever he looked at her; they were always analyzing and calculating everything in sight. Nevermind "windows to the soul", though. Sark's eyes were unreadable. It was almost impossible to divine any kind of emotion from them.  
  
It had always been a passing fascination, though. She had always been able to ignore the slight attraction she felt for him, to quell the mutual curiosity for each other that they shared. It was only natural, she supposed; she, intrigued by the right hand man of the mother she thought she'd lost; he, intrigued by the mythical daughter of the only woman he felt any loyalty to. However, she'd always been quick to dismiss Sark, to keep a distance between them.  
  
Now, she missed the comfort of that distance, as she remembered the pressure of his lips against hers. She had never felt so out of control. Before, she had always felt that she had the upper hand with Sark. Clearly, that wasn't the case anymore. She couldn't stop thinking about his kiss, about him.  
  
Sydney sighed, irritated. Get a grip, Sydney, she scolded herself as she pulled up to park in front of the small café Sark had specified. It was verging on dusk now, and Sydney got out of the car and walked through the open front doors, looking around for Sark. The café was nice; warmly lit with candles and pure white table clothes covering the tiny tables scattered throughout. There seemed to be a back patio, for glass double doors opened onto a garden at the back, and Sydney made her way through the room. She stepped onto the cobblestone patio and into a beautiful courtyard, complete with lush greenery and heavily perfumed flowers. White lights were strung through the trees and bushes that lined the walls of the yard, and a small stone fountain bubbled quietly in one corner.  
  
Sark was seated at a small table off to the side, facing her. He was the only person in the courtyard. He looked up expectantly from the candle he had been gazing into as soon as she moved towards him. He was leaning back in his chair, one arm hooked over the back of it, the other stretched out in front of him, hand fidgeting with the tiny containers of cream that were left for his coffee. It appeared he was building a pyramid. He looked for all the world like he was waiting for the arrival of an old friend.  
  
He stood as Sydney approached, and she noted the way he was dressed. Faded jeans, with an unbuttoned, dark gray, pinstriped shirt over a T-shirt with some kind of graphics on it. She assumed he'd left the suit at home, in order to appear less conspicuous. Sark was, after all, still a wanted man.  
  
She was dressed casually herself, not having been able to change after leaving the airport. She wore a pair of low riding, khaki coloured corduroy pants and a black, long-sleeved stretch top. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. It was almost funny to her, how the two of them probably looked like just an ordinary couple meeting for coffee on a warm evening. Sark smiled at Sydney, and opened his mouth to speak, but Sydney slapped him before he could utter a word.  
  
"That," Sydney hissed, "was for the tongue."  
  
Sark laughed, his hand rubbing where Sydney's had made contact with his cheek. "I suppose I should have expected that," he said as he sat back down in his chair, "but you can't blame me for seizing the opportunity."  
  
Sydney glowered at him as she sat. "Was there a reason for this meeting? Or were you just looking to get fresh with me again?"  
  
Sark smiled at this. "No, Sydney. As much as I enjoy trading barbed flirtations with you, I do have some business to discuss. I thought you should know; I'll be replacing Javier Perez on the upcoming operation for the Covenant."  
  
"Why?" Sydney asked.  
  
"He's dead." He replied, bluntly. "He came to me this morning, requesting that I use my resources to find out what I could about you. He was not entirely convinced that you didn't know Agent Vaughn was CIA."  
  
"So, you killed him?" Sydney was unable to disguise her disdain.  
  
"Yes," Sark smirked, "and before you launch into one of your holier-than- thou tirades, let me remind you that Simon's suspicions must not be raised if you are to gain any intel from him."  
  
Sydney quirked an eyebrow. "'Holier-than-thou'? Well, if the shoe fits."  
  
"Only, it doesn't, Sydney." He interrupted. "You can't sit there looking down your nose at me when we both know what you yourself are capable of."  
  
"Excuse." Sydney froze. He knows. They sat in silence, gazing at each other, Sydney realizing the implication of his words, and Sark watching her struggle between anger and guilt. A warm breeze swept through the courtyard, causing the flame of the candle to dance wildly. The rustle of the leaves only accentuated the utter stillness between them. Sark watched the candle flicker in her dark eyes. Finally, she spoke.  
  
"I'm sorry." She said quietly. "That's all I can really say. I have. no memory of killing your father, no idea why I did it, but I am sorry."  
  
A moment passed as Sark considered her apology. He nodded his head and sat forward. "Appreciated, but I never knew my father, so your guilt is wasted on me." Sydney sighed, annoyed at his abruptness, but he ignored her. "San'ko contacted me this afternoon with the specs for the upcoming operation." He continued, getting down to business. "We are to locate a man named Yuri Biryukov. He is in possession of a computer chip containing intel of Russia's military defense system. The Covenant wants that chip."  
  
"Why is the Covenant so interested in Russia's defense system?" Sydney asked.  
  
"I am not privy to that information." Sark replied. "The Covenant does not yet trust me enough to divulge the reasons behind their actions."  
  
"I see. Where do we find Biryukov?"  
  
"My sources have informed me that he is planning to attend a charity gala at the Museo Poldi Pezzoli in Milan two nights from now. I've secured invitations for us. We'll be going in as a wealthy British couple, looking to purchase. You'll have to get Biryukov alone in order to extract the chip."  
  
"What do you mean 'extract'?"  
  
"The chip is implanted under his skin at the base of his neck."  
  
Sydney rolled her eyes. "Great." She said. "Have you contacted Simon with this information?"  
  
"No. I assumed that you'd want to be filled in on the details first."  
  
"Good. I'll have the CIA draw up a counter-mission for us. Obviously, we don't want the Covenant getting their hands on that chip."  
  
"I'm afraid I have to disagree, Sydney."  
  
"What? Why?" Sydney asked, confused.  
  
"We can't fumble on this op. I don't have the trust of the Covenant, yet, and if we are ever to get in deep enough to destroy them from the inside, their trust is what I sorely need. Besides, I'm not sure they won't just kill me if I prove to be invaluable to them, which is what will happen if I don't come through on this mission."  
  
"Oh, that would be terrible." Said Sydney, with a smirk of her own.  
  
"Yes, it would, for both of us. Given that we know the Covenant is behind your abduction and missing two years, it would be terrible for you indeed if they decide to look into the team that failed in getting them their intel and found that you were one of the members."  
  
"All right," Sydney huffed, "point taken. Well, we'll have to make a copy of the intel to give to the CIA. No way in hell am I handing that chip over to the Covenant without knowing exactly what's on it."  
  
"How does the CIA feel about our little arrangement?" Sark asked.  
  
"I phoned Dixon this morning from the plane. Considering that you are giving us no choice in the matter, he feels you might be useful in helping bring down the Covenant."  
  
Sark smiled. "And your father?"  
  
Sydney grimaced. "I haven't spoken with him, yet, but I imagine he'll be less then pleased."  
  
"That's an understatement, don't you think?"  
  
"Yes, it is." Sydney leaned forward fixing a hard glare on him. "I can guarantee you this, Sark: you double-cross me, betray me in any way. if I don't kill you myself, my father certainly will."  
  
"I don't doubt that, Sydney." He replied, unfazed by her threat. "Jack Bristow is a man well-known for his willingness to protect his family at any costs." He was quiet for a moment. He looked to Sydney as if he was weighing what next to say to her. She could hear traffic drive by beyond the walls of the yard, and a wind chime tinkling closer by. She glanced up at the sky from his candle lit face to see that night had almost fallen completely. Sydney looked back at Sark as he spoke again. "I'm aware that you have no real reason to believe this, no reason to trust me whatsoever, but I have no intention of betraying you. I've often told you how much I admire you, how I believe that we were destined to work together. Consider that when I say that I'm not trying to trick or deceive you."  
  
"Why should I believe that? Why should I trust that you wouldn't stab me in the back, literally or metaphorically, the moment after you get your money?"  
  
"Because years ago, I made a promise to your mother. Take that for what it's worth."  
  
Sydney breathed in sharply, tears pricking at her eyes. She refused to believe that her mother had elicited some kind of vow of protection from this man, this man whom she'd seen kill in cold blood on numerous occasions. "It isn't worth anything, Sark. I will never trust you." She stood and walked away from the table, desperate to hide her tears. 


	5. Chapter Five

5  
Sydney strode through the office the next morning, on her way to her desk, when her father fell in step with her. "I just spoke with Dixon." He said.  
  
"I suppose you're going to try to talk me out of working with Sark."  
  
"I thought about doing that, but I'm not, actually." Sydney stopped and turned towards Jack, the shock clear upon her face. "We need to use all the resources available to us to find out what happened to you. If Sark can help us with that, well, it just makes him another necessary evil that we have to deal with."  
  
"Are. are you serious?" Sydney asked slowly, the irony of the fact that she was asking Jack Bristow if he was being serious not escaping her.  
  
"Yes." He said, stone-faced as ever.  
  
"I'm sorry. I just expected a little more protest on your part. Am I the only one who thinks that this is an insanely bad idea?"  
  
"Unfortunately, we don't have the luxury of saying no to Sark's proposal. He's in control, so we have no choice but to cooperate."  
  
Sydney laughed, shaking her head. "God, my life just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?"  
  
Jack laid a hand on her shoulder, his face full of warm concern. "We'll find the people responsible for doing this to you, Sydney. It may take time, but we'll find them." He smiled. "In the meantime, be careful." Sydney returned the smile.  
  
Three hours after her meeting with Dixon had ended, Sydney found herself sitting at the airport, awaiting Sark and her flight's arrival. She had stopped by the hospital again on her way, but Vaughn still hadn't regained consciousness. She did, however, run into Lauren, who had made it perfectly clear that she entirely blamed Sydney for his condition. She wouldn't even listen to Sydney when she attempted to explain what had happened. Deep down, Sydney knew that Lauren was only stressed and worried about her husband, but she couldn't help wondering how Vaughn could marry such an absolute bitch.  
  
Her thoughts were cut short when a voice came over the PA system, announcing that her flight was now boarding. She stood and straightened her clothes, a pair of dark denim lowriders and a red long-sleeved shirt. She reached for her suitcase, but found Sark already holding it in his free hand, dressed in worn jeans and a black shirt. "Good afternoon, Sydney." He said, smiling widely. She didn't return the smile.  
  
"I'm quite capable of carrying my own luggage, Sark."  
  
"Yes, I'm aware of that. I was merely being polite." He smirked. "However, suit yourself." He handed the heavy suitcase back to her. Sydney masked the grimace threatening to give away how much effort it was taking her to carry it and keep up with him as they strode towards their gate.  
  
After boarding the plane and settling into their seats, Sydney quickly began wishing that Weiss were taking this flight as well. He would be meeting with them in Milan to cover surveillance for Sydney in case anything went wrong. After what had happened to Vaughn, they figured it would be safer for them both if they took separate flights. So Weiss got to take the comfortable, faster company jet, while she was stuck flying commercial with a wanted terrorist and pain in her ass. She faced a twenty- hour flight with only Sark for company. Sydney sighed irritably.  
  
She pulled a book from her bag, hoping Sark would take the hint that she was in no mood for forced conversation. He must have, for he pulled out an MP3 player and put on the headphones, giving her a sideways glance. They stayed that way for some time, silent, save for the music leaking out from Sark's player, which sounded quite possibly like Led Zeppelin to Sydney. Neither of them spoke, except when the snack cart came around and Sark had nudged Sydney, asking if she wanted anything.  
  
Eight hours into the flight, and Sydney was about ready to tear out her hair. She'd read through most of her book, and gone over the specs for the upcoming operation countless times. She looked over at Sark, who was still listening to his music, and had pulled out a book of his own. Out of sheer curiosity, she leaned over to see what he was reading.  
  
"Tereza knew what happens during the moment love is born: the woman cannot resist the voice calling forth her terrified soul; the man cannot resist the woman whose soul thus responds to his voice."  
  
Sydney's breath caught in her throat as her eyes fell upon those well- known words. She looked up at Sark, who had turned towards her when she had leaned into him. He took off his headphones, his eyes inquiring. "Is there something wrong, Sydney?"  
  
"No, I just. that's so weird."  
  
"Forgive me, but I have no idea what you're talking about."  
  
Sydney reached into the pocket on the back of the seat in front of her, and pulled out her copy of "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" by Milan Kundera. It was just as worn and tattered as Sark's. She showed him the cover. "This is one of my absolute favourite books." A flash of surprise lit Sark's eyes, and he broke into a genuine grin. This time, Sydney returned the smile, feeling the iciness she harbored towards him melt a little.  
  
What the hell, she thought, I'm stuck with him for the next couple of days. I may as well try to get along with the cocky fucker. "The first time I read it was in my third year of university. I stumbled upon it while I was researching sources for a paper. When did you first read it?"  
  
"I was thirteen years old when it was given to me." Sark replied.  
  
"Thirteen?" Sydney asked incredulously. "Are you kidding?"  
  
"No. Is there something wrong with that?"  
  
"Well, no," Sydney laughingly replied, "it's just when I was thirteen, I'm pretty sure the only things I was reading were Nancy Drew novels."  
  
"Yes, well, that makes a lot of sense now, doesn't it?" Sydney started to tell him to shut up, but broke into a giggle when she saw the laughter in Sark's eyes. There was a pause between them before Sark spoke again. "What was it about the book that drew you to it?"  
  
"I don't know." Sydney thought for a moment. "I guess the concept of "lightness" always kind of appealed to me. Maybe not so much to the point where I would be unable to feel anything, just, in my life. Well, things would be easier for me if I could lighten the load of my responsibilities; of the consequences to my actions." Her mind inevitably summoned pictures of Vaughn, eyes shut and skin paper white. Sydney was quiet, and looked away from Sark's gaze. She felt awkward, having told him something so personal.  
  
He must have sensed this, for he said "There is nothing heavier than compassion. Not even one's own pain weighs so heavy as the pain one feels for someone, with someone, a pain intensified by the imagination and prolonged by a hundred echoes."  
  
Their eyes met once again, and Sydney gave him a small, sad smile before turning towards the window, and drifting to sleep. Sark watched her for a long time afterwards, a look of deep thought and concern etched on his face.  
  
**** Hands moving up her sides, slipping up her shirt as she leaned back and moaned. Lips were moving over her throat, and she let out a blissful sigh. She had the sense of falling back, and landing on warm softness. Leaning into her now, hips on hers, pressing against her. A moan tore from her lips as she delighted in feeling the weight on top of her. Hands were lost in her hair now, as lips were pressed to hers. Tongue slipping inside her mouth, teasing her, exciting her. Her tongue played along until she felt she would burst. She broke the kiss, gasping for breath. A whisper now.  
  
".Beautiful." It said. "You're so beautiful."  
  
She gazed up into eyes so blue, she felt for a moment she was gazing into the sky. "And I'm yours." She whispered.  
  
Sydney woke with a start later that night; the remnants of a dream quickly thinning like fog from her brain. The cabin was dim, and most of the passengers were asleep, with few exceptions scattered throughout. The lights from laptop computers glowed like beacons. It was peacefully quiet, save for the gentle tapping of keyboards, shuffling pages, and the occasional murmur of voices. Sydney rubbed her eyes sleepily, wondering what time it was.  
  
"It's four o'clock in the morning." Sark's low voice startled her, jolting her wide-awake. She smoothed her hands over her hair, and stretched out her legs from the curled position against her chest they had been in for too long. She delighted in stretching out her muscles, sore from hours of sleep. Sydney pulled the fleece airline blanket tightly around her and turned herself to face Sark.  
  
"How did you know I was awake?" she asked.  
  
"You stopped snoring." He smirked.  
  
"I do not sno." Sydney stopped, remembering very clearly that Vaughn had told her on more then one occasion that she did, in fact, snore. It took every fiber of her self-restraint not to punch Sark in the widening grin that spread across his face. "I was tired." She muttered.  
  
"Clearly." He replied. "We still have a while before we land in Milan." Sark shut the laptop that he had been typing away on.  
  
"Did you sleep at all?" Sydney asked.  
  
"For a few hours. I've checked with my contacts, and everything is set for tonight. Biryukov will be in attendance."  
  
"Good."  
  
Silence.  
  
"You mentioned yesterday that you were coming to meet me from the hospital." Sark said thoughtfully. "I assume you were there visiting Agent Vaughn."  
  
"I was." Sydney confirmed, eyeing him suspiciously.  
  
"How is he?"  
  
"The doctors say he's in critical but stable condition." Sydney said tentatively.  
  
"I'm simply trying to make conversation with you. You needn't be so paranoid."  
  
"Paranoid?" Sydney said angrily, trying to keep her voice down. "I seem to recall you trying to kill Vaughn during several incidents. I'm not supposed to find it strange that you're pretending to be concerned about his welfare?"  
  
"My concern wasn't for his welfare, Sydney." Sark said shortly, his normally smooth voice tainted with annoyance. "It was for you."  
  
"I assure you, it's unwarranted. I'm fine."  
  
Another awkward silence. Sark shivered slightly, pulling his arms around himself. She considered selfishly keeping the blanket for herself for a moment, if only to inflict some kind of suffering on him, until she realized that she hadn't fallen asleep with it. Sark must have covered her with it while she slept. Glancing over at him, she finally took some pity. "Cold?" Sydney asked.  
  
"No."  
  
"Yes, you are. Here," she said, pulling off her blanket and offering it to him, "take this. I'm too warm, anyway."  
  
Sark hesitated, then took the blanket obligingly. "Thank you." He said quietly. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. After a few minutes, Sydney heard the steady flow of his breath deepen, indicating he had fallen asleep. She found herself fascinated by the sight of him, fast asleep, looking so peaceful and vulnerable. 


	6. Chapter Six

6  
They arrived in Milan with the sun just beginning to make its descent towards the horizon. Sark and Sydney made their way to the front entrance, where a black, nondescript van awaited them. Sark pulled open the side door, deposited his and Sydney's bags and helped her into the vehicle. He shut the door behind them.  
  
Sydney grinned at the man already sitting and waiting for their arrival. "Hi, Weiss."  
  
"Hey, Syd. How was your flight?" he asked, flashing her a smile back.  
  
"Long." She replied, rolling her eyes.  
  
"Everything's. um," Weiss glanced over at Sark, who was leaning towards the driver and giving him directions to a hotel, "is everything all right?"  
  
"Everything's fine" Sydney reassured him. She was grateful to have someone else to talk to for a while. Sark had slept for the rest of the flight, and she kept herself busy pretending not to notice how his body slumped gradually towards hers, his warmth sending small shivers over her skin. She would have woken him, but she was reluctant, for she knew he needed all the sleep he could get. At least, that's what she told herself.  
  
Sark turned towards the two of them as the van began to move, and his eyes narrowed as they fell on Weiss. He seemed to be sizing the other man up. Weiss extended his hand, saying in a firm voice "Hi. I'm Eric Weiss, Sydney's partner."  
  
Sark nodded and shook his hand. "Sark." He replied simply.  
  
After an awkward pause, Sydney broke the tension. "So, what have you got for me?"  
  
"Just the standard set of transmitter earrings." Weiss said. "At least, I think that's what they are. Marshall's a little hard to understand sometimes."  
  
Sydney laughed as Weiss handed her a small case. She opened it and smiled approvingly. "They're pretty." She held them out for Sark to see, who quirked a small smile as well.  
  
For the entirety of the drive to the hotel, Sark was silent as he listened to Sydney go over the details of the night's operation one more time with Weiss. He watched as she laughed and smiled while she talked to Weiss. Each time their eyes connected, Sydney felt her breath hitch in her throat and her pulse quicken.  
  
At last, they arrived at the Hotel Windsor. Weiss placed a hand on Sydney's shoulder as she moved to exit the vehicle. "Hey," he said with a gentle smile, "good luck tonight."  
  
"Thanks. I'll see you later." She replied. Sydney climbed out of the van and followed Sark into the hotel lobby.  
  
They made their way to the front desk, surrounded by tourists and businessmen and women. "Ho una prenotazione." Sark said to the young girl behind the desk. Sydney couldn't contain a smile, as the girl looked him over appreciatively.  
  
She blushed and smiled brightly at Sark. "Certo. Che è il suo nome, il suo signore?"  
  
"Laurence."  
  
Minutes later, Sark and Sydney took the elevator up to their floor and Sark opened the door to the room. It was spacious and bright, large windows with views of the city let in every ounce of sunlight possible. There was a sitting area, with chairs and a sofa, and a desk that faced into the room. Off to the side, in a separate room, was the largest, most inviting bed Sydney had ever seen. Sark saw her stare at it longingly and said, "Of course, you may have the bed tonight." He set about unpacking his luggage.  
  
"Thanks." Sydney said quietly. She carried her suitcase into the bedroom and laid it on the bed. She looked at the clock, noting that they had a few hours before the charity gala, as she pulled out the gown she had packed. She moved back to the doorway. "I'm actually kind of hungry. Do you want anything from room service?" she asked.  
  
Sark looked up, a bit surprised. "Actually, I was going to go downstairs to the restaurant."  
  
"Oh." Sydney replied. "Okay." She started to turn away, but halted as he spoke again.  
  
"You're welcome to join me."  
  
The invitation hung between them for a moment, until finally Sydney smiled.  
  
****  
  
"Thank you." Sydney said to the waiter as he finished filling her glass with wine. She picked it up and relished in feeling the wine wash over her lips, flow over her tongue and slide down her throat. She noticed that Sark hadn't taken his eyes from her since they had been seated. "It's good." She said.  
  
"It's always been a favourite of mine." He replied, his gaze unwavering.  
  
They made small talk, filled with awkward pauses, as they waited for their meals. Nothing of importance, really. They spoke of previous trips to Milan and the different places they had been within the city, though they each left out details for obvious reasons. The absurdity of the situation struck Sydney as plates were placed in front of them, and she chuckled to herself. "What is it?" Sark asked.  
  
"If someone had told me two years ago that I would one night be sharing a civilized dinner with you, I would have told them they were insane." Sark smiled at this, and began eating his meal.  
  
They were nearly done eating when Sark's phone gave a sharp trill. "Yes?" He said into it. There was a pause as he listened to the caller. "And everything's in order?" He motioned for the waiter to bring the bill. "Good. We'll meet you in the lobby in one hour." He snapped the phone shut and placed it back in his pocket. "That was Simon. He and Russet have the cameras set up at the museum so they'll be able to let us know Biryukov's exact location."  
  
"I guess we should go get ready."  
  
****  
  
Sydney stepped from the shower, and wrapped herself in one of the cozy white robes provided by the hotel. She padded through the sitting area on her way to the bedroom. "Bathroom's all yours." She said as she passed Sark. She closed the bedroom door behind her.  
  
Sydney pulled out the small travel hairdryer she had brought with her from her suitcase and plugged it in. She dried her thick hair as best and as fast as she could. When she shut it off, she could hear the shower running in the bathroom. As she took out her curling iron and crossed to the full-length mirror, she tried not to think of Sark, standing under the hot spray, water streaming down his lean body.  
  
She shook her head, and chastised herself for being so foolish. She proceeded to curl the ends of her hair, and reminded herself of the multiple reasons she had to hate Sark. She put down the iron, and twisted her hair up. He's a wanted assassin. She grabbed a box of hairpins and pinned her hair to the back of her head. He had a hand in Francie's murder. She pulled out a few tendrils so that some grazed her neck, and others framed her face. He kidnapped Will and had him tortured. She moisturized and powdered her face. She swept eyeshadow the colour of smoke across her lids and dabbed some clear gloss on her lips. He is an arrogant, impudent pain in the ass.  
  
Sydney let her robe drop to the floor, slid into a black slip and took her gown from its garment bag. It was made of jewel-red satin, and it fastened around the neck, with the neckline dipping just low enough to show off her cleavage. She stepped into it, slipping the gown up and over her hips, which it hugged perfectly before dropping straight to the floor. She strapped on a pair of stiletto-heeled sandals, and opened the case that Weiss had given to her. She admired the earrings again before putting them on. They were silver, and dangled delicately from her lobes. A small, ruby- like stone hung from each of them. Sydney smiled, appreciating the extra effort Marshall had put in by matching them to her dress. She stood in front of the mirror once again, and admired her reflection. She dabbed a small amount of her perfume on her wrists and her neck. Satisfied, she crossed to the door and pulled it open.  
  
Sark turned to face her as she exited the bedroom. He looked fantastic as usual, having put on one of his trademark suits, black from the shoes to his tie. What wasn't usual, though, was the look of absolute astonishment that flashed upon his face for the briefest moment. He composed himself before Sydney could really enjoy it, however, and said stiffly "Are you ready?"  
  
"Yes." Replied Sydney, the smallest trace of a smirk playing on her lips. He opened the door, stepping aside to allow her to lead the way. She could feel his eyes burning over her skin.  
  
They stepped out of the elevator, and made their way through the lobby. Sydney spotted Simon and Russet seated in some chairs set off to the side. As she and Sark approached, Simon glanced up and his lips curled into a delighted grin. His eyes ran over Sydney lasciviously, drinking her in from head to toe. Russet turned in his chair, and his mouth fell agape as his eyes rested on her.  
  
"Hello, boys." Sydney breathed as they stood.  
  
"Julia," Simon said in a voice filled with awe and lust, "you. you look incredible."  
  
"Thanks." She replied with a smile, as she glanced sidelong at Sark. His face, as usual, was a mask. "Shall we go?"  
  
"Yes, let's." Sark replied, turning on his heel and striding ahead of them. Sydney exchanged an amused look with Simon as they followed him to the front entrance, where Sark had arranged for a limousine to take he and Sydney to the museum. Simon and Russet were to follow in a van.  
  
They rode in silence, the tension so palpable Sydney felt she was breathing it in, and could feel it move through her blood. At last they arrived, and the driver came around to open her door, and helped her out. She paused in front of the museum entrance and took a deep breath. Sark looked at her questioningly. "Are you prepared for this?" He asked.  
  
Sydney flashed him a brilliant smile and said in a posh British accent. "Of course I am, darling." Her head was in the game now. As they walked into the museum, she felt Sark move his hand up her back to rest on the curve of her shoulder, pulling her towards him. The feel of his skin on hers shocked like electricity, and she tried to keep her breath steady. They moved along the hall, smiling graciously to anyone who happened to look their way, until they reached a corner where there stood a statue. They circled it, pretending to admire the artwork, while they surveyed the crowd and searched for Biryukov. "Any sign of him?" she said lowly.  
  
"Not yet."  
  
A middle-aged man approached them. "Are you interested in this particular piece?" he asked as he smiled warmly at them.  
  
"Yes." Sark replied. "I'm looking to add to my personal collection. What can you tell me about this?"  
  
As the man began speaking with Sark, Sydney's cell phone rang from inside her small handbag. She pulled it out and answered. "Hello?"  
  
"We've got Biryukov making his way into the museum." Simon said. "Wait a moment, and you should be able to spot him."  
  
"That's fantastic." Sydney said loudly, and grinned. "Thomas will be very happy to hear that." She switched off the phone, and turned to Sark, who had stopped to listen to her. "Darling, that was Mr. Millings. He said the shipment we were expecting just came in."  
  
Sark smiled back. "Wonderful." He resumed speaking with the older gentleman. Sydney peered around them until she finally spotted the man that matched the photograph Sark had shown her earlier.  
  
"I'm just going to pop over to the ladies room." She said to Sark. "If I'm not back in ten minutes, come find me, will you? You know how susceptible I am to impulse buys." She smiled charmingly at the other man, who smiled back.  
  
"Of course, love." Sark replied leaning over to her to grace her cheek with a light kiss. Sydney flushed slightly and turned to follow Biryukov. She paused to grab two glasses of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter. She deftly turned the fake wedding ring Sark had given her and flicked the stone open, revealing a small compartment. She emptied the powdered sedative into one of the glasses, and swirled it until the sedative was dissolved. Biryukov had stopped, and he now stood admiring one of the museum's many paintings. She sauntered up to his side and gazed up at the painting, as she handed him a glass. He smiled in surprise as his eyes rested on her. "Beautiful, isn't it?" Sydney breathed.  
  
"Yes." He said, still gazing down at her.  
  
"My name's Sarah."  
  
"Yuri." He raised his glass in appreciation. "Thank you." Sydney smiled up at him as he took a deep drink from the glass.  
  
She flirted with him for a few minutes, until she noticed he began to sway on the spot, and his speech slurred slightly. "Are you all right?" She asked, feigning concern.  
  
"I am suddenly not feeling so well." He replied, as he swallowed hard.  
  
"Here," she said, "let me help you to a seat." She wrapped her arm around his waist and guided him towards the men's washroom. They entered, and fortunately the room was empty. As soon as Sydney shut the door behind them, Biryukov lost consciousness and slid to the floor in a heap. Sydney pulled out a pair of latex gloves from her purse and quickly went to work.  
  
After extracting the computer chip, she disposed of the bloodied gloves and left Biryukov slumped against the wall. She rushed to the door, tugged it open and knocked right into a man who was on his way into the room. He stared at her, confused. "Um, this is the men's room right?"  
  
Sydney pulled the door shut, and stumbled into the man, forcing him back. "Do you know?" she slurred. "I think I've had a few too many drinks. I walked into the wrong washroom." She laughed as though this was the funniest thing to have ever happened to her. "Where is the ladies room?"  
  
The man smiled, slightly amused. "It's just down the hall, miss."  
  
"Thank you." She hiccuped, as she stumbled past him. She looked back to see him enter the washroom, and then broke into a run. Moments later, she heard the man shout out "Hey! Somebody help! Stop that girl!"  
  
She slipped through the crowd as fast as she could, making her way back to Sark. He was still talking to the same man. She ran up, grabbed his hand, and pulled him after her, saying breathlessly "Time to go, sweetheart. Pressing matters are at hand." She started to make her way towards the front entrance, but spotted security guards weaving through the crowd. She and Sark turned and ran deeper into the museum, with the shouts of people trailing after them. Finally, Sark spotted a fire exit and quickly pulled Sydney through it after him.  
  
They were plunged into darkness as the door slammed closed behind them, and they were left in an empty alley. Sark pulled out his phone and dialed. "Walker, I need you to bring the van round to the back alley of the museum." A pause. "Perfect." He re-pocketed the phone, and turned to Sydney. "Did you get the chip?"  
  
"Of course." Sydney snapped, to which Sark replied with a smirk. The alley was long, and provided little cover, save for a garbage bin a bit further away from the exit. They ran towards it, then hid on the further side of it. No sooner had they taken cover, then they heard the door to the alley swing open. Sydney's eyes grew wide, and she looked up at Sark, whose brow was furrowed in irritation. He glanced around at their surroundings, and then his eyes rested on Sydney. He bit his lip, repressing the smile that crept over his mouth.  
  
"What?" Sydney whispered savagely, failing to see the humour in their situation.  
  
"I know I'm risking another slap in the face for this, but." He broke off as he backed her into the wall and his lips crashed into hers. 


	7. Chapter Seven

7  
  
Her instincts kicked in and she pushed on his chest, trying to shove him away, but his arms tightened firmly around her. "Relax." Sark whispered, his lips breaking from hers, and he kissed and nibbled a path along her jaw. "It's called 'improvisation'." His lips brushed against her ear, and Sydney shivered as a rope of desire wound up her spine. The slowly approaching footsteps were echoing toward them, and realization dawned on her. Cautiously, her body loosened, and she replaced the mask of suspicion and fear on her face with one of dreamy passion. She slid her hands down the flat plane of his stomach and placed them on his hips, pulling them into hers. Their lips came together again, as Sark's hand slid over her shoulder and neck, and into her hair, while the other pressed against the small of her back.  
  
Sydney wasn't aware of the moment she lost track of her last rational thoughts; the ones telling her that this was just an act and to ignore the heat she felt burning between her legs. She wasn't aware of the moment she stopped listening to the footsteps that almost certainly meant trouble for them both, and listened to the growl that tore from Sark's throat as she enticed him to deepen the kiss with the flick of her tongue over his lips. The heat under his coat warmed her hands as they ran up his back. Sark was tangling his tongue with hers, and his fingers slipped from her hair and trailed down her cheek, her neck, and across her collarbone. They lightly stroked the soft skin between her breasts, and Sydney moaned against his mouth.  
  
They were interrupted by the sound of a gun being cocked. Sark broke away from her and they turned to see a security guard standing a few feet away, his gun aimed and ready. "Ehi!" he shouted. "Che lei fanno sostiene qui?"  
  
Sark raised his hands and replied "Per favore, il docente universitario't dice nessuno di questo. Se mia moglie erano scoprire, sarebbe furioso." The guard eyed them suspiciously, but started to lower his gun. The squeal of tires caused him to spin around to face the van that had shot into the alley. Sark pounced on the man, grabbing his arm and wrenching it up and behind his back. He ripped the gun from the guard's grip and pistol-whipped him. The guard crashed to the ground.  
  
The van screeched to a halt in front of them. The tinted passenger window slid down with a hum, revealing Simon, a cocky grin stretched across his face. "Well," he said, "it looks like we're just in time."  
  
Sydney rolled her eyes and pushed herself away from the wall. Her breathing was still heavy, and she avoided Sark's gaze as he pulled open the side door for her. Her mind was racing, a wild storm of confusion and reproves. The kiss was an act, of course, but she couldn't deny how much she had enjoyed it. She glanced at Sark, seated quietly beside her. His face was a mask, as always.  
  
As the van lurched forward into the night, Simon twisted around in his seat. "So, did you get the chip?" he asked.  
  
"Of course." Sark replied. "Julia is incredibly skilled at her work." He looked meaningfully at her and winked, the smirk on his face causing Sydney to ball her hand into a fist. She spent the rest of the ride glaring silently out the window.  
  
****  
  
Simon tried to convince them to have a few drinks with him and Russet, but Sydney claimed exhaustion. Sark had gone inside their room, and Sydney was about to follow him when Simon touched her arm. "Good work tonight." He said. She was startled when he leaned in and kissed her cheek. He must have seen her surprise, for he grinned and said "Sorry. I know I'm not supposed to do that." He shrugged. "I just miss you, babe." He turned and went down the hall into his own room.  
  
Sydney stared after him. Perhaps she had underestimated Simon's affections for Julia. She entered her room. Sark had taken off his coat and thrown it on the sofa. He was setting up a laptop on the desk, preparing to make a copy of the stolen chip for the CIA. He worked in silence as Sydney watched over his shoulder, not trusting Sark enough not to pull anything if she left the room.  
  
The copy made, Sark handed it to Sydney. "That should satisfy your employers for the mean time."  
  
"Now, I've helped you." Sydney said. "When do you uphold your end of the deal?"  
  
Sark smiled and pulled up a briefcase from the floor and placed it on the desk. He opened and pulled out a dossier. "This is something I stumbled across. I don't know what it means, but make of it what you will."  
  
Sydney took the dossier from his hand and flipped it open. Her eyes devoured the small amount of text inside. She re-read it five more times before meeting Sark's eyes again. "This doesn't make any sense." Sark was silent. "According to this, a Covenant agent, matching Julia's description, is infiltrating the CIA as we speak." She dropped the open file on the desk and began pacing as she spoke. "My father tested me for mind control when I came back. There was no evidence of any. How could I be helping the Covenant without being aware of it?" Sydney was speaking more to herself then to Sark.  
  
"It's possible that the woman described is not you, Sydney." Sark said. "It simply describes a woman of your age with blond hair. That could be anyone."  
  
Sydney shook her head. "No. It's too much of a coincidence. Who else could it be?" She stopped in front of him. "This was all you could get? There was no further information?"  
  
"No. I'm only allowed a certain degree of access to the Covenant's files. I tried to dig further, but to no avail." Sydney frowned. "However, as I continue to work for the Covenant and prove my worth to them, their confidence in me should increase, thereby allowing me to delve further into the matter."  
  
Sydney let out a sigh of frustration and pushed a strand of hair away from her face. "Okay." She said. She glanced at the file. "Thank you, for this. You've done more for me then the CIA has." Her voice was not without a touch of bitterness.  
  
Sark nodded in response, but said nothing. After an awkward pause, Sydney smiled slightly. "Well, I actually am tired, so I'm going to get ready for bed." She walked into her bedroom and shut the door behind her. She took off the transmitter earrings and placed them back in their case. She slipped out of her dress and hung it in the garment bag in the closet. She tugged on the robe she had previously abandoned to the floor, and began removing all the pins that were keeping her hair up. She was careful not to drop and lose any on the floor. Finally, she leaned over, flipping her hair, and shook her fingers through it. Sydney stood up again, and remembered that she needed to wash the make-up off her face. She headed back towards the door and pulled it open.  
  
Sark was standing by the window, staring out into the night. He had taken off his shirt, and the muscles on his back were dimly lit by the moonlight. He turned towards her, and Sydney sucked in a breath as her eyes raked over his smooth skin. She couldn't help but notice how low his pants were sitting on his hips. Slightly dazed, she finally spoke. "I just need the washroom for a minute." She said, and she tore her eyes away from him.  
  
She felt her cheeks grow hot as she enclosed herself within the safety of the washroom. Sydney leaned over the sink and splashed cool water onto her face. Memories of Sark's lips and hands and tongue were snapping in her mind.  
  
When she'd finished washing up, she opened the door to find the room completely dark. The curtains had been drawn shut, and she assumed Sark had gone to sleep on the couch. She quietly made her way back to the bedroom and was about to close the door when he spoke in the dark. "Sydney?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"You looked beautiful this evening."  
  
Sydney blushed, and after a moment, replied. "Thank you." She closed the door, turned off the light, and slipped out of her robe and into bed. She spent a long time lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Finally, her thoughts became more and more distant as she drifted willingly into the embrace of sleep.  
  
****  
  
She woke early the next morning to find that Sark had already left. A note lay on top of the file she had left on the desk the night before.  
  
I shall be in contact soon. Thank you for not slapping me again; I appreciate it.  
  
S.  
  
Sydney smiled to herself and began preparing for her flight back home. 


	8. Chapter Eight

8  
  
Sydney trudged through her front door, abandoned her suitcase, and collapsed heavily onto the couch. It was late, and she was exhausted from her flight. Thankfully, when she'd dropped off the copied Russian military intel on her way home from the airport, she'd been informed that Dixon had given her the next couple of days off, a rare occurrence.  
  
She knew that if she sat on the couch any longer, she would fall asleep, so she hauled herself up and made her way to her bedroom. She stripped off her clothes as she made her way to the bed, leaving a trail behind her. Sydney slipped between the cool sheets, closed her eyes, and immediately was asleep.  
  
She raised a hand to knock on the door. She paused, hand stilled in mid- air, when she noticed her skin was a pale white. She looked around and saw that her surroundings were devoid of colour, appearing in variant shades of gray. Everything was slightly indistinct, as though it was out of focus. She concentrated on the door again, and knocked twice. A moment passed. The door was pulled open; revealing a tired face, eyes empty and mouth turned down in a frown.  
  
"You're late." He said in a voice pregnant with irritation and impatience.  
  
"Sorry, I was unexpectedly delayed." She heard herself reply. She was carried forward into the room by this body, so like her own, and yet not hers at all.  
  
"It matters not." He said as he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "I have the location of the cube." He turned towards his desk and reached for a file sitting atop it. She felt something slide out of her sleeve and into her hand, hard and cool and comforting. "I want you to contact Walker and retrieve it for me." He was saying, but his words were meaningless to her. The sound of her pounding heart was all she could hear as she stepped forward and wrapped her arm around his neck. Quickly, before either of them could prevent it, she sliced the blade of the knife across his throat. She stepped back as he struggled to turn towards her, his hand flying to the wound to stop the river of red that poured forth. It looked artificial, the bright red juxtaposed against it's gray surroundings, but she was all too familiar with the smell of blood. It was real.  
  
"J.Julia." he gurgled, shock and incomprehension etching his eyes.  
  
She gazed down at him with a burning anger as he sank to the floor. "My name is Sydney Bristow." A light shone in his eyes as realization hit him full force. She crouched so that she was eye level with the man. "I know what you did to me." She continued. "I know what you tried to do to him. My mother, my real mother was right to do what she did, to protect him from you. And now you won't live to see if the prophecy is true. Your life has been a waste."  
  
She stood and walked towards the door. "In a way, you're lucky. If he had been the one to find you first, your death would have been much more painful and much more leisurely." She paused in the doorway and threw a glance behind her at the fallen man. Her voice was poisoned with acidity as she said "Goodbye, Father."  
  
Sydney's eyes snapped open, her breath coming fast and furiously. She fought to calm herself as she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She leaned over, hair hanging in her face and fists gripping handfuls of bedding, as she tried to make sense of the images fading from her mind. The echo of one word in particular caused her heart to jump: Father.  
  
Was it simply a dream, or was it a memory, long repressed until now? If it was the latter, whom had her mother been right to protect? What had Lazarey done to her? Why had she called him "Father"? Sydney was dizzy with confusion.  
  
She rose and glanced out the window. Soft morning sunlight streamed through her curtains, but it did nothing to warm the chill in her blood. She padded down the hall and into the bathroom. She reached into the shower and turned the water on, as hot as she could stand it.  
  
Sydney spent the morning and part of the afternoon curled up on the couch, trying to concentrate on a book. Her thoughts, however, kept turning to more disturbing matters; Sark, and the intel he had given her, her dream. She had to get out of the house.  
  
She found herself at the hospital. She made her way to Vaughn's room and paused outside the door. She peered in at him through the glass, a lump burning her throat as she noticed his paper white skin and the dark circles under his closed eyes. Quietly she pushed open the door. His eyes slowly opened as she approached the bed, and Sydney halted. "You're awake." Sydney said, and her voice was shaky with tears. A smile of relief lit her face.  
  
"Hey." He said quietly, with a weak smile of his own.  
  
She moved forward and sat in a chair beside his bed. "When did you regain consciousness?"  
  
"Last night."  
  
"And you. you're okay?"  
  
"Relatively speaking." He replied with a small chuckle.  
  
Sydney smiled again, and an awkward moment passed between them. "Vaughn," she began, "I'm sorry."  
  
"Sydney, you don't have to apologize." Vaughn quickly interrupted. "You did what needed to be done. If you hadn't stabbed me, Simon Walker would have put a bullet in my brain."  
  
She nodded her head, tears spilling down her cheeks, and she reached over and gripped his hand. "I know. I just. I don't know what I would have done if you had. if you." She couldn't bring herself to finish. Vaughn smiled warmly, and brought his other hand to her cheek. He wiped away a tear.  
  
They stayed that way for a moment, like two lovers caught forever in a painting: Vaughn caressing her cheek, and gazing into each other's eyes. They didn't notice that Lauren had entered the room until she cleared her throat as she stood, arms crossed, frowning down on them. Immediately, Vaughn and Sydney pulled away from each other. "Michael, " she said, "you promised me you were going to try and get some sleep."  
  
"It's my fault." Sydney said as she stood. "I just came to see if he was any better. I didn't mean to wake him."  
  
"Yes, well, if it's all the same, I think it'd be best if you leave now." Lauren said. She moved to the opposite side of Vaughn's bed, and pulled his blanket up over his chest. "Michael has much recuperating to do, as I'm sure you're quite aware."  
  
"Yes," Sydney replied, her voice tainted with the anger that was beginning to flood her veins, "I am aware of that." She glanced back at Vaughn, who remained silent and refused to look at either of them. Her voice softened. "I'll come by tomorrow, when you're feeling more rested." He looked up at her, and his eyes were mixed with apologies and gratitude. Sydney wasn't about to make things worse for him by being baited into a petty argument with his wife. He smiled and nodded, and Sydney turned on her heel and left the room.  
  
She was halfway down the hall when she heard Lauren call her name. Sydney turned to face her. "Yes, Lauren?" She asked, her voice stiff with formality.  
  
"I don't appreciate you sneaking in here to make advances on my husband behind my back."  
  
" 'Making advances'?" Sydney said incredulously. "That is not why I came here, you paranoid freak. I came to make sure that Vaughn is okay."  
  
"How considerate of you, seeing as how it's solely your fault that he is in the hospital to begin with."  
  
"It is not solely my fault. I think Simon Walker can shoulder a little blame, as well." Sydney replied, her voice coming out louder then she had meant it to. "I apologize that I had to hurt Vaughn, but if it weren't for me, he would most likely be dead right now."  
  
Lauren was clearly seething now. "Given your history with men, I'm surprised he isn't dead."  
  
Sydney's voice dropped dangerously low. "What is that supposed to mean?"  
  
"I know your history. Any man you get close to inevitably winds up dead. You're a poison upon the male population." Her face was unbearably smug. "I don't think I can be blamed for wanting you to stay away from my husband."  
  
Sydney stepped closer, and fought every urge within her being to punch Lauren in her notably large teeth. "He may be your husband," she hissed, "but Vaughn is still my friend. We will see each other if we want to." She left Lauren staring angrily after her.  
  
****  
  
Sydney stalked angrily up the front steps and rang the doorbell. She heard footsteps approach the door, and it was pulled open to reveal a smiling Weiss. "Syd." he began.  
  
"Please tell me you have copious amounts of alcohol somewhere in your house."  
  
"What? Uh, no, I don't." His face melted into concern as he saw how upset Sydney was. "Syd, what's wrong?"  
  
"Get your things. You and I are going to get thoroughly plastered tonight."  
  
"O. kay?"  
  
****  
  
They wound up at a small bar, not far from their houses. They were seated side by side on a bench along a wall in the back. Sydney noticed that he wasn't keeping pace with her, that she was already on her fourth drink while Weiss was still nursing his second, but she didn't care. She needed to clear her mind and he was proving to be the perfect sounding board. She told him everything: from the kiss she and Sark had shared, to the troubling dream from the night before, up to the confrontation between her and Lauren. "You're a liar." She finished as she took another gulp from her drink.  
  
"I'm a liar." He smiled. "Why is that?"  
  
"You told me Lauren was "a good person". Obviously, you're a liar."  
  
"Syd."  
  
"No. I don't want to hear it. She's a bitch and there's no convincing me otherwise." Another gulp. "Can you believe the nerve of her? Implying that I was merely there to flirt with Vaughn? Bitch." She muttered into her drink.  
  
"Well, it must be hard for her to see you with him, given your past with Vaughn."  
  
Sydney sighed irritably. "Can you pretend to be a girl, for a moment? I don't want to hear reasonable explanations for her attitude. I just want someone who will listen to me mock every negative attribute she has, and then nod in agreement."  
  
"Sorry. Mock away."  
  
"She's paranoid. She's boring. She makes these disgusting, smoochy faces with Vaughn in the office. How inappropriate is that?"  
  
"Because locking lips with Vaughn amidst the ruins of the SD-6 offices was appropriate?"  
  
Sydney ignored him. "And she's obviously not a real blonde."  
  
"How do you know that?"  
  
She snorted. "Nobody with eyebrows like hers is a natural blonde, Weiss."  
  
"I see. You know, I never figured you for the superficial type, Syd."  
  
"You're right. That was mean." She grinned wickedly. "But I enjoyed it anyway."  
  
Weiss laughed despite himself. "Well, that's something then." He put his arm around her. "Whatever cheers you up is fine by me."  
  
Sydney leaned her head on his shoulder. "Thanks, Weiss. You've been a really good friend to me."  
  
"It's not hard to do." He said.  
  
Sydney grinned and sat up. She finished off her drink and signaled to the waitress for another one. Weiss smiled slyly at her. "What?" She asked.  
  
"So. you kissed Sark, did you?"  
  
"Grow up. It was a cover. Nothing more."  
  
"Right, right. Of course." He said in mock seriousness.  
  
"It was!"  
  
"Yeah, I was just wondering: did you enjoy it? Was it everything you ever dreamed of?"  
  
"Shut up." She said as she stood, her legs wobbly from the tequila. "I'm going to the washroom."  
  
"You're avoiding the question, Syd!" he called after her. "I'm taking that as a 'yes'!"  
  
When she re-emerged from the washroom, she started to make her way back to Weiss, but she felt a pair of eyes tracking her movements. She glanced around her until she found the source. He turned as soon as Sydney spotted him and began making his way to a back exit. She followed him out the door and into the cool night air. "Another back alley, Sark? Don't bother looking for an encore." She said as she checked that they were alone.  
  
"Pity. I quite enjoyed your performance in Milan."  
  
"That's great. What do you want?"  
  
Sark's eyes narrowed, and he stared at her for an uncomfortable amount of time. Sydney felt herself sway as she waited for him to say something. "Sydney, are you drunk?" he finally asked.  
  
"Sark, you must have been watching me for some time in there. You know perfectly well that I am drunk."  
  
"I saw you consume four tequila Caesar's, but frankly, I expected an agent of your caliber to be able to hold her alcohol better."  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
"Ah, I see that our usual witty exchange will be entirely one-sided tonight."  
  
Sydney replied with a scowl.  
  
Sark smirked. "I thought you might like to know that I discovered something else about your time with the Covenant."  
  
Sydney's scowl immediately vanished, and she stepped closer to Sark. "What?"  
  
"It would seem that, while he may not be the man who ordered your kidnapping, my father was the man in charge of your brainwashing and recruitment into their operations."  
  
"Lazarey was part of the Covenant?"  
  
"Apparently so. He maintained his position within the Russian government in order to siphon intelligence to them. No one but the Covenant knew about my father's real loyalties."  
  
Sydney detected a note of bitterness in his voice, and she felt a pang of sympathy for him. "Maybe that's why I killed him." She said, as she thought back to her dream. "Maybe the brainwashing wore off, and I remembered what he had done to me."  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
Sydney sighed and rubbed her palms into her eyes, trying to focus her brain on the information swimming through her head, but it was impossible. "This is too much for me right now. I just want to get back to drinking my cares away."  
  
"Hard day at the office?" Sark asked, amused.  
  
"No, I had the day off actually. I went to the hospital to see Vaughn."  
  
"I take it he's not faring well."  
  
"Oh, he is. He regained consciousness. However, I got into an argument with his shrew of a wife." She said bitterly.  
  
Sark's eyes lit with surprise. "Sydney Bristow, I've never heard you speak so maliciously of anyone. Save Arvin Sloane and your mother, of course."  
  
"Yes, well, the woman drives me crazy. She accused me of trying to steal her husband away."  
  
"Were you?"  
  
"No." She replied, then giggled. "Well, maybe a little. But then, she called me "a poison upon the male population." She finished, and she pouted sulkily.  
  
"What a horrible woman." Sark said.  
  
"Thank you!" Sydney exclaimed.  
  
"Would you like me to kill her?"  
  
Sydney's mouth dropped open, the horror of the suggestion creeping over her, until she realized that he was joking. She finally laughed. "No, that's all right. Thanks for the offer, though." She shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. "I should get back. Weiss will be wondering what's taking so long." She moved to the door.  
  
"Sydney, you're not a poison." Sark said, in a voice that could be described as warm, if she didn't know any better. Nevertheless, she was touched.  
  
"Thank you." She said as she looked back at him. She smiled, then disappeared into the bar. 


	9. Chapter Nine

9  
  
The sound of the doorbell was drilling through the thick blanket of sleep that engulfed her. Sydney lifted her head groggily from her pillow, and squinted at her clock radio. 10:47 am. She groaned and pushed herself up and off the bed. She wrapped herself in a robe and ran her hands through her hair, trying to smooth it into being somewhat presentable. She didn't have a headache, but her head felt congested, and her throat hurt from inhaling second-hand smoke all night.  
  
She trudged to the front door and opened it. "Dad?"  
  
Jack's eyes ticked over her disheveled appearance. "Sydney, I'm sorry. I thought you would have been up by now." He looked at his watch for emphasis.  
  
Sydney stepped back from the door, allowing him to enter the house. "I went out with Weiss last night, just to blow off some steam."  
  
"I see." He said as he followed her into the kitchen.  
  
She went about making a pot of coffee. "Did Marshall have a chance to look at the information I brought in?"  
  
"Yes." He said as sat on one of the stools beside the counter. "He's had a look at it, and there seems to be a section that is encrypted. He's attempted to decipher it with every code he knows, but to no success."  
  
"So, what do we do now?"  
  
"Currently, we're following several leads to locate a code key." He paused at this point, unsure as to whether he should continue. "Did Mr. Sark have any information for you."  
  
"He did." Sydney glanced towards the coffee table in her living room, where she had left the file Sark had given her. She went to retrieve it. "Sark didn't know what to make of it, and frankly, I'm not sure either." She handed the file to her father.  
  
His eyes flicked over the page and his frown deepened. "Sydney, we ran a multitude of tests after you came back. There was no evidence of mind control. This can't be referring to you."  
  
"You said there was no evidence of "conventional" mind control. Maybe the Covenant has methods that we're unaware of; maybe they've turned me into some kind of sleeper agent."  
  
"Sydney, stop." Jack said firmly. "We can't jump to conclusions with this. It's possible the woman described here isn't you."  
  
Sydney was quiet for a moment. "That's what Sark said." Jack's mouth twitched, as though the idea of being in agreement on anything with Sark was repulsive. Sydney ignored it, and pressed on. "Dad, he told me something else last night."  
  
"You met with him last night?" he asked, concern and suspicion tainting his tone.  
  
"At the bar Weiss and I were at last night."  
  
"Why didn't you tell me you were meeting with him again?"  
  
"It wasn't planned. He just found me." Sydney continued, both irritated and warmed by Jack's worry. "Anyway, he said that he'd done a little more digging, and he discovered something else. Apparently, his father, Lazarey, was the man in charge of my recruitment into the Covenant. Normally, this wouldn't concern me so much. I mean, it fits doesn't it? I murdered the man that was responsible for my abduction and brainwashing. But. I had this dream the other night." She stopped, struggling with her words.  
  
Jack placed a hand on her shoulder, giving her his strength. She smiled, and glanced down at her feet. "I dreamt about killing him. I was in the surveillance video you'd taped, and I killed him. I spoke as he lay dying on the floor. I said that I knew what he had done to me, and that Mom had been right in protecting someone. I said something about a prophecy. then, as I was leaving, I said 'Goodbye, Father.'" Sydney met her father's stare as the last words came out. He was silent. "I don't know what to think, Dad. Was it a memory?"  
  
Jack offered a small smile. "I don't know. It's possible that whatever the Covenant did to you to erase your memories is wearing off, or malfunctioning, and your memories are starting to bleed through into your dreams." Jack wrapped his arm around Sydney, and she leaned her head into his shoulder. A tear slid down her cheek. "Or maybe it was only that; a dream."  
  
"When I look back on those years I spent with SD-6," Sydney said, finding comfort in her father's embrace, "after I knew who Sloane really was, all I could think about was how incredibly screwed up my life was. I remember lamenting to you and to Vaughn about trying to find some sort of normalcy in any way I could. But now?" She choked back a sob. "I think I'd give anything to go back to that time. As complicated and as difficult as my life was back then, at least I had a sense of who I was, and at least I had my friends."  
  
Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks now. "I don't even know who I am anymore. I've done things that I can't remember, things I can't even comprehend. and Francie's dead. We don't even know where she's buried. Will's gone. I understand that I have to stay away from him to keep him safe, but I miss him so much, every day. Vaughn's married; he can't even look me in the eye anymore."  
  
She was broken now, a torrent of tears and anger flowed out of her as she buried her face against his chest. Jack hugged her tightly, and remained silent, completely unsure of what to say. After a while, Sydney's sobbing receded, and she pulled away from him. She offered him a weak smile as her eyes fell on the wet stains on his shirt. "Sorry about that." She wiped at her cheeks.  
  
Jack shook his head. "It doesn't matter."  
  
Sydney turned and opened a cupboard to retrieve a mug. She poured the freshly brewed coffee into it. "Want to know what makes all this even worse?" She said as she turned back to him and leaned against the counter.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Besides you, the only person who seems to understand what I went through, who wants to help me, who doesn't look at me with constant pity in his eyes, is Sark."  
  
"Sydney, you have to be careful with him. We still don't know if Sark can be trusted."  
  
"Don't worry. I'd never be foolish enough to put my faith in a man like Sark. If he had planned on hurting me, though, he had the perfect opportunity at the hotel in Milan."  
  
"Yes, well, we can't assume anything with that man as long as we don't know what his long-term agenda is." Jack replied.  
  
There was a strange look on his face, Sydney noticed. She stared contemplatively into the depths of her mug and thought of Sark. Her feelings on him were hard to pin. On the one hand, she felt the same old adversarial contempt that had she had always felt for Sark, but on the other, she found herself more and more intrigued by him. The question of why he wanted her help in taking down the Covenant to begin with bothered her. Sark was an excellent operative; if he wanted to destroy them, surely he didn't need help. If he did, why had he chosen her? There was also the matter of her thawing iciness towards him. Why was she finding it so much easier to be in his company? They were very nearly civilized to each other, something that Sydney had never expected to happen when she'd first forged this alliance with him.  
  
Sydney refused to think about the way her cheeks flushed when she remembered how Sark's tongue had tasted in her mouth, and how the way his hips fit into hers nearly undid her. She cleared her throat and took a sip of her coffee. "Do you want some coffee, Dad?"  
  
"No, thank you. I have to get back to the office. Dixon wanted me to tell you that you may have to come in this afternoon, if we find anything on a code to break that encryption."  
  
"Okay, sure." She smiled sweetly as Jack leaned in and kissed her cheek.  
  
After he left, Sydney took a long shower, revitalizing her tired body with some citrus scented soap. She felt fresh and clean as she stepped into her bedroom and dressed for the day. She threw on a pair of jeans and a small, white T-shirt, and she went back out to the kitchen to get something to eat. She fixed herself a sandwich, grabbed her unfinished coffee, and settled down at her kitchen table. The newspaper from the day before still lay there, unread, and she began flipping through it.  
  
She'd finished her sandwich and was draining the last of her coffee, when she felt a sense of unease prickle the hairs on the back of her neck. She put the mug down slowly, and turned in her chair. Sark stood behind her, his hands in the pockets of his dark suit, and look of amusement lit his face. "I was beginning to wonder when you would notice you weren't alone." He said with a repressed smirk.  
  
"How did you get in my house?" Sydney demanded.  
  
"You would think that someone in your type of profession would remember to lock her front door." He replied, his smirk on full display. "Really, Sydney. That's just sloppiness on your part."  
  
Sydney swallowed her irritation, mostly because she knew he was right. "Can I help you with something? Or are you making a hobby of stalking me for your own amusement?"  
  
Sark chuckled. "I think, perhaps, if I were going to begin stalking someone for personal amusement, I would choose a subject with a home life that's a little more risqué." His eyes indicated the open newspaper on the table.  
  
Sydney rose to deposit her plate and her empty coffee mug in the sink. "My work is risqué enough, thanks. I don't need any excitement in my home life."  
  
"All right, but if you're ever in need of a few thrills," he said as she turned back to face him, his lips still quirked in a smile, "I'd be more than willing to assist." He bit his lip suggestively.  
  
She rolled her eyes, but she couldn't stop the amused smile that surfaced. "Sark, you're an ass."  
  
"Indeed, but you seem to be warming to me nonetheless, Sydney." He stepped closer to her.  
  
"If this partnership is going to work, it will be easier for both of us if we treat each other with a certain level of courtesy." She replied, ignoring the shiver that ran up her back as she noticed he smelled faintly of soap and something familiar, but unidentifiable.  
  
"And that's the only reason for your change in attitude?" Sark asked as he raised his eyebrow.  
  
"Sark," she sighed, exasperated, "the point of this little visit? Please?"  
  
He smiled. "Of course. I suppose your father has already informed you that a portion of the chip we stole is encrypted."  
  
"Yes, he did. Marshall is working on cracking it right now."  
  
"His attempts will be unsuccessful."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I've been ordered to retrieve a code from a storehouse in St. Petersburg. The Covenant has reason to believe that this code is the only way to decipher the encryption."  
  
"Okay, so what do I do?"  
  
"Fly to St. Petersburg. The code is disguised in the text of a book. Tomorrow night, I'll retrieve the book, but you must intercept me as I'm leaving with it. You can take the book back to the CIA." Sark said.  
  
"What about your cover with the Covenant? You have to be careful not to lose their trust."  
  
"Your concern is touching."  
  
"If the Covenant suspects treachery, you said they'll likely have you killed." Sydney pointed out. "As much as I hate to say this, I need your help. If you die, that poses as a severe disadvantage to me."  
  
He smiled. "Of all the ways you have changed since you reappeared in my life, it's refreshing to know you still retain certain qualities that have always amused me about you."  
  
"What? What are you talking about?" Sydney demanded.  
  
"Well, you're quite self-absorbed, aren't you?"  
  
Sydney glared, and refused to allow him to bait her into another one of his paltry arguments. "Stop trying to annoy me. What do you suggest we do to avoid suspicion?"  
  
"This storehouse has a fairly decent level of security. Nothing that can't be easily surpassed, of course." Sark replied. "I suggest we arrange to "run into" one another, and engage in a physical confrontation. The surveillance cameras will record this, and if the Covenant has any doubts, they need only gain access to the security tape to see that you took the book from me. What is it, Sydney?" He asked, as she was grinning widely.  
  
"I get to kick your ass."  
  
Sark's eyes rose to the ceiling, and he let out a sigh. "Really, do try to be a grown up about this." Sydney answered with an even wider grin. "Right, if you're going to be so juvenile, then I'm leaving. I'll call you tonight with more details." He turned and headed towards the patio doors. "I'll see you in St. Petersburg." He said over his shoulder.  
  
"Oh, I look forward to it, Mr. Sark." She called after him, unable to keep the laughter out of her voice. 


	10. Chapter Ten

A/N: Just a quick note to say thanks to those that have reviewed. I really appreciate it, and I'm glad that you've all been enjoying the story thus far.  
  
Chaton  
  
10  
  
"You've got four minutes to meet Sark at the exchange point. I've tapped into the security system to give you a heads up on Sark's location if there are any delays, or if there are any guards to look out for." Weiss told her as she exited the van. "The surveillance cameras take in video only, so you don't have to worry about your conversation with him."  
  
"Conversation? I'm gonna beat him up and take the book. What kind of conversation do you think I'll be having with him?" Sydney asked.  
  
"I don't know, what type of weapons you each prefer? Or maybe confessions of undying love?" He replied with an evil smile. Sydney glared. "Look, all I'm saying is: try not to kiss him again."  
  
"Weiss? Shut your mouth." She slammed the door shut before he could respond.  
  
She approached the side of the building, and her earpiece buzzed to life. "It's not that easy to get rid of me, Mountaineer." Weiss's tinny voice said.  
  
"Stop distracting me." She replied lowly as she reached a door and began to pick the lock. She made quick work of it, and she was inside the storehouse in moments. Sydney pulled out her tranq gun and moved along the wall until she found the set of stairs she was looking for. Stealthily, she moved up them, and paused at the door to the second level. "Am I clear?" She asked.  
  
"Clear." Weiss confirmed.  
  
She pulled open the door and peaked out into the hall. She quickly bolted past rows and rows of doors until she reached a corner. "Mountaineer, you've got one guard approaching." Weiss warned.  
  
Sydney flattened against the wall and held her breath as she waited. As soon as the unsuspecting guard came into view, she shot him in the neck. He collapsed immediately. She stepped over his body and kept moving towards the exchange point. "Sark's location?" She asked.  
  
"He's got the book now, and he's on his way to meet you. One minute."  
  
"Good." She slowed her pace a little, not wanting to arrive too early. She moved past door after door, all of them white and blending with the white walls. She came to another corner, another hall, and forged ahead. Finally, she came to the hall where Sark had arranged to meet her. She paused at the corner before turning into it. "Any sign of Sark?"  
  
"He's entering now."  
  
Sydney took a deep breath and turned the corner. Sark was approaching from the other end. He was dressed similarly to her: black pants, black sweater, and a bulletproof vest. He had the book in his hand. He smiled and tucked the book into the back of his pants. "Sydney, good to see that you're on time."  
  
"Of course I am." Sydney said defensively, as she re-holstered her gun.  
  
"Shall we?"  
  
"Yes. Let's." She replied with a grin, and she darted forward. She lashed out with her fist, but Sark easily blocked it and his fist connected with her jaw. She stumbled backward. "What the hell are you doing?" She demanded.  
  
Sark chuckled. "You didn't think I'd make this easy, did you? Sydney, I have a reputation to uphold. I can't have the Covenant thinking I went down without a proper fight."  
  
"Alright, Sark. You don't hold back, and neither will I." She said, her lips pursed with determination. Sark merely nodded, and Sydney launched forward once more. She attacked with another punch to the face, but as he raised his hand to block it, she swung up her leg and kicked him in the side. Quickly, before he could recover, she moved to kick him again, but he anticipated her move, and he grabbed her by the leg and shoved it away. He swung at her face again, and Sydney barely jerked back from it in time. She grabbed his arm and used it to slam him against the wall. She wrenched his arm behind him and leaned into his back so she could purr into his ear "Now really, Sark. Is this what you call a proper fight?"  
  
Her free hand moved to the book, but she was caught off guard as he swung his elbow behind him and caught her in the rib cage. He pushed off the wall and used the momentum of his body to crush her between the opposite wall and his body. He flipped around and pressed against her as his hands caught her wrists and held them over her head. He dipped his head lower, and she felt the heat of his breath dance over her ear. "Sydney, darling, you don't give me enough credit."  
  
Sydney was reminded of the last time Sark had her pinned against a wall, and the familiar pressure of his hips against hers was making her ache. She decided to use this to her advantage. She lifted her hips off the wall and pressed harder against him. She smiled at the small hitch in Sark's breathing. She swiveled her hips just slightly, enough to make his eyes close. "Sark?" She breathed.  
  
"Hm?" He muttered, his eyes still closed.  
  
She noted how his hands relaxed their grip around her wrists. "I can think of a few things I haven't given you. Is credit really what you want from me?" He licked his lips, and Sydney was keenly aware of how close they were to hers. "Then you'd better let go of me, because I'm two seconds away from kneeing you in the groin."  
  
Sark's eyes flew open, and she wrenched her wrists out of his grasp. She shoved him away forcefully and grinned. "I can't believe you fell for that."  
  
Sark raised an eyebrow, and suppressed a smile. "Very amusing."  
  
Weiss suddenly spoke into her earpiece. "Listen, Mountaineer, I hate to break up the foreplay, but three armed guards are headed towards you right now."  
  
"Shit." Sydney swore. "We've got company. Time for me to go." She crouched on the ground and swung her leg at the back of Sark's knees, causing him to fall on his back. Sydney grabbed his vest and flipped him onto his stomach so she could grab the book. "There's three of them, all armed. Are you okay to take care of this yourself?"  
  
"Yes." His voice was slightly strained.  
  
"Good. I'll contact you tomorrow night." She got to her feet. "Is the side exit clear?" She said to Weiss.  
  
"Negative. I'll meet you at the back exit."  
  
She pulled out her gun, this one loaded with bullets, and took off down the hall. Sydney heard shouts behind her, followed by gunfire. She glanced behind her to see Sark dive through a doorway. She kept running.  
  
Minutes later, she'd shot two guards, and was bursting out the back exit of the building. The van was nowhere to be seen. "Weiss, where are you?"  
  
Confused, she glanced around, then decided to check the original extraction point. Weiss may have encountered some trouble and been delayed. "If you can hear this, I'm on my way to the side exit." She ran to the edge of the building and plunged around the corner. The van was still parked where she'd left it. She began to run towards it, but halted when the side exit door flew open.  
  
Sark emerged from inside the building and turned to see Sydney standing a few feet away. She began to say something, but stopped when Sark aimed his gun towards her and fired. Sydney jumped, startled by the gunshot. Behind her, she heard a low groan and the sound of gushing blood. She turned to see a guard fall to his knees, his hand clutching at the river of red that poured from his stomach. As he fell to his side, he made a last attempt at a shot. Sydney threw herself out of the way.  
  
Sark dove as well, but a second too late. The bullet bit into his thigh, and he let out a shout of pain. Sydney shot the guard in the head, then ran to Sark's side. "Fuck." He swore.  
  
Sydney checked the back of his thigh. "The bullet went clean through. Are you okay to walk? We've got to get out of here." She helped him to his feet, and wrapped her arm around his waist. "Come on, I'll take you to the safehouse, and we'll clean you up."  
  
"Sydney, are you forgetting who I am? You can't take me to a CIA safehouse."  
  
"Right, of course. We'll drop you off wherever you need to go, then."  
  
Sark eyed the van suspiciously. "Can your man be trusted?"  
  
"I trust him." Sydney replied.  
  
He thought for a moment. "Fine."  
  
They began hobbling towards the van. "It's not like you had a choice, you know. You can't even stand without my help." Sydney said.  
  
"That's wonderful, Sydney. I save you the trouble of being shot in the back, and I get merciless ribbing for my reward."  
  
Sydney began to reply, but was interrupted by an explosion. They were both thrown backwards as the van burst into a tower of flames. Scraps of metal rained down around them.  
  
Sydney pushed herself up to her feet, and stared in horror at the fire- engulfed van. Tears were filling her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. "Weiss?" She whispered. "Weiss?" She repeated the name over and over, unaware that each time; she got louder, until she was screaming. She ran towards the wreckage. Sydney heard Sark call after her, but she ignored him. She got as close to the burning van as she could, but she could see nothing on the inside, only fire. The smoke was choking her, and she stumbled backwards, right into Sark.  
  
She turned and tried to speak, but she was racked with sobs. Sark was gazing at the flames, his face etched with confusion and alarm. Finally, he tore his eyes away and looked down at Sydney, who stood staring up at him, her eyes bright and full of pain. His face softened, and he put his arms around her. She stood within his embrace, stiff at first, but soon, she allowed herself to melt into him. She buried her face against his chest.  
  
Sark held her in silence for as long as he could, but finally, he spoke. "Sydney, we have to get out of here." Her arms tightened around him, and she tried to speak, but her words were muffled. "We can't stay here. More guards could be on their way. We have to leave."  
  
"I can't leave him." Sydney said as she shrugged out of his arms.  
  
"There's nothing you can do." Sark said as gently as he could.  
  
They both heard the exit door open behind them, and Sark swung around, took aim, and fired as another guard emerged from the building. "Sydney, we have to go."  
  
She stared into the flames for a moment, then wordlessly wrapped her arm around Sark's waist again. They trudged off into the darkness. Sark's car was parked down the street from the storehouse. Sydney helped him into the passenger seat, shut the door, and got in the driver's seat. "Where am I going?" she asked quietly.  
  
Sark gave her instructions on how to find his nearest safehouse. They drove mostly in silence, the quiet interrupted only by his occasional directions. Finally, after what seemed like hours of driving through darkness and trees, the headlights of the car lit a small, plain house. Sydney helped Sark out of the car and inside.  
  
The house was really more of a shack, bare from the usual comforts of a home, save for the bed that sat in the corner, and a small table with two chairs in the tiny kitchen. She tossed the book on the table. Sydney sat Sark down on the bed. "Where are your medical supplies?" Her voice was hollow.  
  
"In the bathroom, under the sink." He replied, and watched her disappear into the other room. He leaned back and undid his belt and his pants, and struggled to pull them off without standing. His leg was covered in blood. He removed his boots and his socks. Sydney came back with a wet towel, rubbing alcohol and bandages. She kneeled before him on the floor, and went to work. She cleaned most of the blood with the towel, and cleaned and dressed his wound.  
  
She wrapped the bandage around his thigh once more, and fastened it. She noticed a scar, peaking out from the edge of the bandage, just above his knee. Sydney had a vague recollection of an ice cavern in Siberia, and hurling an ice pick at him. Her fingers traced the scar, and she looked up to meet Sark's gaze. His eyes were burning into hers. "Thank you." He said, his voice low and quiet.  
  
Sydney attempted a smile, but failed miserably. Instead, she reached up and undid the fastenings for his bulletproof vest. He shrugged out of it, and tossed it on the floor. Sydney stood and removed hers as well. She removed her weapons, and placed them on the kitchen table. She turned back to face Sark. Her arms hung heavily at her sides. Sydney gazed at the floor, unable to bear the sight of pity in Sark's eyes. She heard the springs of the bed squeak as he struggled to stand. He closed the distance between them. She felt his hand run through her hair, tucking it behind her ear, and she looked up at him.  
  
"Sydney," he began, but she shook her head. Fresh tears were rolling down her cheeks.  
  
"I don't want to talk about it." She whispered.  
  
Sark nodded. Sydney tried desperately not to sob, not to break in front of the man who was supposed to be her enemy, but all she could do was long for him to hold her again. She needed him to lessen the pain that was burning her insides. Sydney found herself leaning into him, and resting her cheek against his shoulder. After a moment, she felt his arms move up and circle around her. His warmth comforted her.  
  
An eternity seemed to pass as Sark listened to Sydney's sniffling and sighs slow to a stop. She wiped away her tears and raised her head to look up at him. "I'm sorry." She said.  
  
"Sydney, there's no need to apologize." He replied.  
  
She was silent, and she held his gaze as her hands moved slowly up his back and caressed his neck. Sark looked surprised, but he said nothing. She watched his face as she pulled him closer against her, then closed her eyes as her lips met his. Her kiss was searching, and full of need. At first, he remained motionless, but finally, his hands traveled up her arms and held her face as her tongue slipped inside his mouth. She backed him up to the edge of the bed, and he sat, pulling her down with him.  
  
Sydney climbed into his lap, her thighs straddling his. She ran her hands down his chest to his waist, and her fingers grasped desperately at his sweater. Quickly, she broke the kiss as she pulled the sweater up and over his head. She tossed it behind her to the floor. Her eyes raked over the smooth skin of his chest and arms, made imperfect only by the ghosts of wounds from missions gone by. She was too familiar with the scars that their kind of life could leave. Her eyes met his. "Sydney, what are you doing?" He asked, slightly out of breath.  
  
"I don't know. I just know that I don't want to feel alone anymore." She said as she pulled off her shirt. Her lips crashed into his once more, this time more urgent and demanding. Her hands ran through his hair, and the short hairs bristled against her palms. She sucked and bit his lip as she felt his hands slide up her sides and back to the clasp of her bra. He unfastened it, then slid the straps from her shoulders, one after the other. She leaned her head back as he kissed a trail from her neck to her shoulder, and he pulled the bra away from her breasts. He pressed one hand against the small of her back, pushing her closer to him, as the other cupped her breast. His thumb ran over her taut nipple, and she let out a low moan.  
  
She brought her lips against his neck, and she kissed and sucked at it. She couldn't resist giving him a gentle bite, and it brought a growl to Sark's lips. She kissed her way back to his lips, and she flicked her tongue over them, before tangling it with his tongue once again. Their breath was heavy and fast.  
  
Her hand trailed down between them, caressing his chest and stomach, to feel him over his black silk boxers. He was already hard and ready for her. She stroked him through the smooth material, and he groaned against her mouth. He grasped her hips, flipped her onto her back, and pressed himself on top of her in one fluid motion. Sark nibbled on her lip, then trailed kisses down her throat, between her breasts, and down her stomach. He undid the button of her pants and pulled down the zipper with his teeth. He slipped his hands under the waistband of both her pants and her panties and pushed them slowly down her hips. He pulled them off her legs, then kissed his way up to her breasts.  
  
His tongue rolled over her nipple, and she arched her back as he sucked one and then the other. He pressed his hips against hers, and she felt his cock push against her through his boxers. Her hands slipped down to them and tried to push them down. "Sark," she breathed, "take these off."  
  
Sark looked up at her, then stood up from the bed and slid them off. He gazed down at her for a moment, and Sydney sat up and took his hand. She pulled him onto the bed beside her, then swung her leg over his hips and sat on top of him. Her fingernails traced paths down his chest, and she leaned down and kissed him passionately. He thrust his tongue inside her mouth, and she sighed as his hand ran up her thigh and between her legs. He rubbed her slowly, teasing her with his fingers. His other hand was tangled in her dark hair, keeping her lips pressed against his. Sydney was moaning and sighing as his fingers worked faster, when she finally reached down and pulled his hand away from her.  
  
She took his cock into her hand, and locked eyes with him as she rubbed him against herself. She was slick with wanting him, and she guided him inside of her easily. She couldn't help but gasp as Sark filled her, and she closed her eyes as she began to rock back and forth. She felt lighter then air as she felt the first stirrings of her orgasm.  
  
Sark sat suddenly and wrapped his arm around her waist. Without slipping out of her, he flipped her onto her back, and he began to thrust hard against her. She was almost overwhelmed by the feeling of him, and she gasped for breath between moans. Her fingernails bit into his back as she cried out. Her eyes were shut tightly. "Sydney," Sark whispered against her ear, "look at me."  
  
Sydney opened her eyes and gazed up at him. She'd never seen his eyes so blue. "Sark." She moaned.  
  
"You're so beautiful."  
  
An odd feeling of familiarity flashed in her mind. She reached up and caressed his cheek. He leaned down and kissed her as they came together.  
  
****  
  
Sydney awoke to the pale yellow light of morning. She looked at Sark, fast asleep next to her, and sighed. She slipped quietly out of the bed and set about finding her clothes. She dressed quickly, and grabbed her weapons and the book off the table. She began to leave, but stopped and turned back to the table. She tore a blank page from the back of the book and pulled out a pen from her vest. She scribbled a quick note, then left.  
  
Thank you for being my distraction. 


End file.
